Payback
by Glastea
Summary: Logan's getting equal. By hook or by crook. [Oneshot]


**Payback**

A/N: Yes, I'm trying it from Logan's POV. I'm not particularly keen on Wolverine at the best of times, but this worked better if done from his perspective. If it has to go on a timeline, it's after X1. If we go with the idea that Logan didn't see the incident in the train station (which he didn't) and that he was too preoccupied to take full attention of the rest of the X-Men when Magneto had been strapping everyone up in the Statue of Liberty, then this does work. Or, at least, I think so. If you don't think the same as me, feel free to say!

There's a small amount of bad language in this. Heck, it's Logan. I couldn't avoid it.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Summers must be the most infuriating kid I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Really- strutting around the mansion like the owns the place, plus a motorbike which is far too pretty for him to own, a fiancée who deserves so much better, and when I saw him that afternoon, boy, was I not in a good mood- which was all his fault anyway.

"Anything wrong, Logan? You look slightly…. Frazzled." He continued to cross the space, heading over to the garage- where I'd just come from (actually, staggered would probably be a better word). I couldn't take it. Everyone else was in lessons (the last one that day) - he obviously had a free period. Chuck was out at a seminar for psychologists, or some crap like that, and so I felt no regrets for my next action. I grabbed the bastard by the front of his turtleneck and hefted him against the wall.

"Great. Oh so constructive, _Wolverine, _you've got me against the wall. I swear, your lack of intelligence is displaying itself spectacularly," he told me, not looking at all concerned.

"So, Tight-ass, you think that putting an electric shocker on your bike will really stop me taking it?" I wish I was taller, so I could get into his face properly, but no such luck. He just continued to look completely unconcerned.

"I would consider this _current _situation to say yes, pun intended," he replied. Fuck, he acts far too much like a teenager. Though, I noticed, he didn't even attempt to get out of my grip- like he couldn't be bothered to. I suppose it just made me feel even more like skewering him.

"Oh, the smart-ass thinks he's better than me. However, I have one thing over you, Cyke, which I could easily use to my advantage." This was something I'd never seen occur before, so I was aware that he probably wouldn't think of it happening. I was right.

"Oh, yeah? Which is…" He was obviously sceptical, so I proved my point. By pulling his glasses off. I was actually very thankful that I am short at that moment, because I probably wouldn't be alive at this point. I just managed to get my arm out of the way, before he diverted his sight upwards, and took out some of the ceiling, before squeezing his eyes shut, head down.

"Give them back. Now." There was a sense of authority in his voice, which actually, instead of having the desired effect, simply made me feel angrier. He was treating me like he would a kid. No one does that to me and gets away with it. So, as he reached out with one hand to forcibly remove the articles of optical wear away from me, I simply held them out of reach. Whilst pushing him harder against the wall.

"This is not a joke, dammit! Give them back." Panic was rising slightly in his voice, and for some reason, it made me feel oddly exuberant. I was making the great Cyclops- cool, collected, smart-ass Cyke, panic. And, fuck, did he just use some mild profanity there? Miracles happen every day.

"Well, what are you going to do? I have your glasses. Who're you going to cry to now? Jeannie? It's just you and me, bub." I was savouring my words- of course I was. Last time I'd had the kid by the front of his shirt, I'd had the bad luck to have all the other X-Men and Wheels in the room. No one here to stop me now.

"I'm going to make you give my shades back, and then we'll walk off and pretend this never happened, instead of acting like pre-teens." Something I kind of expected him to say- it sounded Summersish.

"I don't think that's going to happen, kid. I think I'm going to torment you until someone has to forcibly split us up. How does that sound?" As he lunged for his glasses, I kept them away from him once more. I think I was very lucky that the doors along the corridor were all closed- or, surely, someone would have come out to see what had happened. The large crash that impacted when the ceiling was forced apart and brought back to the ground wasn't the least obvious sound in the world.

"I am not a kid. Give them back. I swear, if you want to start a fight, you'll find I'm not planning to retaliate." Well, of course he wasn't going to- nor was I planning to. Fighting would just have him out in seconds (especially with one of my punches)- I just wanted him to suffer mentally for a bit, as it would probably be more effective.

I could tell he was shaken, though. The last time I'd seen him without the ruby quartz barrier, I'd been more worried about Marie than anyone else, but he'd been acting a bit weirdly, admittedly. Like he'd lost all hope of thinking straight.

And, then, he went in for his shades again.

"I don't think so," I said smugly. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You can't even function properly without a pair of sunglasses. That's sad, bub."

As he went to grab the specs that he thought were in my hand (though were actually in my pocket by now), the front door swung open.

"What on earth is going on here?" I swivelled to see Professor X, who was surveying the scene and had surmised the situation exactly- not that it wasn't obvious, of course; one mutant sans glasses, against the wall, large chunk of the ceiling all over the floor- you'd have to be completely stupid not to know what had happened. "Give Cyclops back his glasses, Wolverine, then I will see you in my office." Resignedly, I returned the offending pieces of eyewear, which he donned almost religiously, and mouthing something to the effect of 'you wait, punk', I followed Xavier into his office.

That sticky situation taught me one thing, though; He may not have complete control, but boy does he want it. Especially when he was sitting on the stairs with Jean's arm around him when I exited Chuck's office around an hour later, having been treated like an adolescent and severely told that I could have died if not for the kid's swift action. He was definitely shaken to the core, but at least the mess had been swept up- the only evidence of anything having happened was the gaping hole in the roof. God, he takes a chunk out of the ceiling and Wheels still treats him as his 'Golden Boy'. Makes me sick.

And I did get my comeuppance. Scooter retreated upstairs as soon as I entered the hallway, and then a large medical textbook suddenly came flying towards me and began battering me around the head. It hurt like hell- I'll give Jeannie credit for that. Sadly though, it seems I'm outnumbered at least three to one as far as adults not liking Cyke is concerned, and although I didn't have anything to show for the entirely uncalled for attack (or, in my opinion, anyway), the boys who had found the hole in their floor were looking through it and laughing at me as I tried to swat away the heavy piece of writing that was effectively smashing me around the head.

Can I do nothing in this place that's apparently acceptable? I swear; if I could get rid of the shocker that dear Tight-ass has installed on it, I'd be long gone with that poncy motorbike. Or, I might just hide it somewhere and see if he cries.


End file.
